


No More

by The-Clairvoyant-Rick (MajixTrixx)



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, I'm not sorry, It's fuckin sad guys, Other, Rick passes away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:43:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6078096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajixTrixx/pseuds/The-Clairvoyant-Rick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Morty sat within the unnaturally quiet expanse of the garage, rolling around sad and meaningless comparisons to life in the place where his own life had, once upon a time, changed forever, clutching a messily scrawled version of Rick’s Last Will and Testament on a liquor stained napkin, he felt his resolve break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More

**Author's Note:**

> Soo... I almost feel kinda bad writing this. I generally don't go for angst because it hurts me but I couldn't help myself. My muse was pretty clear about what was going to happen. This is for the ever lovely Scwifty-Rick on Tumblr who loves angst and I can't help but to try and impress them with soul crushing emotion. This was beta read and edited by the incredibly talented and SO patient, Squikkums. I love all of you and I hope you enjoy the pain(:

Sometimes, death seemed more like fiction than reality. 

Morty was no stranger to it, for others or, in a figurative sense, himself. With somebody like Rick at his side, guiding and shaping his mind to the many ideas across the galaxy, Morty died and was reborn again almost every single time they went out on an adventure. His thought process was constantly being expanded simply by being exposed to the various lifestyles of other beings that the average person knew nothing about. In the physical sense, he’d been the one to end life more than once. Morty couldn’t remember how many times he’d pulled the trigger on Rick’s orders, trusting that what he was doing was right and that the older man would never lead him astray. But it went further than that for Morty. He’d seen his own dead body. More than once. He’d even gone as far as to bury himself and assume the identity of his dead kin on one occasion. It was a never ending cycle, life and death, but sometimes, to Morty, it almost seemed as though Death was merely an option. 

How many times had Rick whipped up some ridiculous solution that worked like a charm? How many times had the older man talked about immortality and the various ways that he was going to go on living forever? Operation Phoenix, though a bit on the rocky side, had proved that Rick could transfer his consciousness into the body of another, that even if his body got old and started to fall apart and fail, that he had other options, that he wouldn’t be stopped by something as plebian as death.

Now though, as Morty sat within the achingly silent expanse of the garage, he couldn’t stop the knot that formed in his throat as he was forced to swallow those childish thoughts in the face of an event that he’d never thought possible: Rick’s passing. 

One would have thought that a man like Rick Sanchez would die in a blaze of glory, that if he ever went down, it would be in a firefight against the Galactic Federation, opposing their corrupt reign over the planets of the universe. It would even make sense for Rick to die driving drunk and accidently crashing into an asteroid or getting eaten in one of the many possible dimensions that he’d underestimated or that he might piss off one of his alternate selves and end up getting whacked for his trouble, but what didn’t make sense, was for Rick to simply pass in his sleep. 

The concept that Rick could die a normal death was an impossible one for Morty to wrap his mind around. The idea that he would go peacefully, without putting up the barest hint of a fight, was so utterly foreign to the brunette that he couldn’t accept it, it just wasn’t something that could ever happen. 

But it did. 

On June 23rd, 2025, Morty’s entire world fell out from under his feet with a single call from his mother. 

With a handful of tearful words and a sincere and heartfelt apology, Morty felt as though his entire identity had been stripped away, melted and dissolved like unwanted cotton candy meeting the surface of boiling water. In that brief flicker of time, it was as if everything that he’d ever cared about had been set ablaze before his very eyes, that he’d been forced to watch the flames consume the entirety of his life. Rick was gone. The most solid thing in his entire life, the person who meant more to him than anybody in the cosmos, had faded away in a split moment of time. 

Old age, to Morty, was by far the most dehumanizing way to die. Violence, war and chaos, those were passionate  -- those final moments as you fought tooth and nail for your very life, battling for freedom with a blaster or fighting off an attacker, screaming for aid or avenging the loss of somebody close, they were real. Unmistakable to the bones. Your heart was slamming, forcing blood faster and faster through your system, making your body tingle with surging adrenaline. In that moment, you were once again primal, drawn back to the ages before man became so docile, civilized and shackled by society. You were alert, awake, and for the briefest moment, you were more alive and human than you’d ever been before. 

That didn’t happen with age. In the face of the unyielding indifference of time; the opposite happens. The body begins to slow exponentially, a quick witted mind becomes trapped within a prison of flesh until their brain, too, grows mushy and sluggish and you begin to realize just how mechanical you really are. Your body is a machine, brimming with valves and tubes and motors, full of electrical signals and hydraulic pumps but they only continue to function properly within a certain range of conditions, and only for so long. 

As the years continue to pass, your machine breaks down. 

Cells, once alive and healthy, begin to die faster than they can multiply, muscles start using more energy to do less, the heart grows lazy and blood flows too slowly, thickening within the veins that carry it. Sense fade, memories fade, life fades, and in that growing despair, you are no longer a human being, you’re a malfunction -- a battery spluttering on its last flicker of energy, an engine without oil -- grinding itself to pieces in a last futile attempt to complete a meaningless task.

And as Morty sat within the unnaturally quiet space, rolling around those sad and meaningless comparisons in the place where his life had, once upon a time, changed forever, clutching a messily scrawled version of Rick’s Last Will and Testament on a liquor stained napkin, he felt his resolve break.

Crushing anguish gripped the brunette’s heart, squeezing it mercilessly and making it harder than he ever thought possible to think or function. Emotion swam before his eyes, blinding him with constant reminders of their time together and all the things that he would never get to say or express to the man who meant more to him than life itself and with every breath that he took, Morty felt himself come closer and closer to bursting apart at the seams, felt the inexorable crash of loss consume him with a hunger that he’d never known before. 

There would be no more adventures, save for the ones Morty made for himself. No more fast flying war stories from the various battles that the older man had participated in against his arch nemesis, the Federation. No more haphazardly sung Flesh Curtains songs when they were both blissfully drunk and howling with laughter. No more wasted days at Blips and Chitz playing Roy and trying to outdo the other’s score. There would be no more drunken ramblings in the dead of night, no more obscene gestures at inappropriate times, no more crude humor. 

No more Rick.

And, in a last futile effort to save himself, Morty reached for the faded silver glint of Rick’s trusty flask. Unscrewing the top of it, the brunette knocked back the remainder of the numbing liquid like a man dying of thirst, letting the sheer anticipation of blissful intoxication coat his soul like a balm, and in the quiet space, surrounding by half finished experiments, Morty shrugged on one of Rick’s many forgotten lab coats and convinced himself not to think about it.  


End file.
